Chapter 23
Rain had come with the dark clouds—Nyx’s tears, crying for her lost child. He could feel the sorrow in each drop, but he had no sorrow left for the goddess. She had doomed her daughter to this fate as much as anyone else.
Night and Death stirred in his arms, whimpering softly as Heles landed, Thessilnn just behind them.
Beyond, in the camp, Aren’s forces gathered prisoners and ran blades through those too injured to be useful.
He ignored them, his eyes on the blood steadily leaking from her arm and abdomen.
Her lips were pale as the silvery strands of her hair stuck to her forehead.
He brushed the hair aside—she hated having it in her face—then slid off Heles and hurried for camp.
Through his mask, soldiers stared at him warily, some of them shrinking back despite the way they had praised him mere hours ago.
Good.
They should be afraid of what would happen to them, to the world, should she not survive.